“G’Evening, Miss Lorelei.”
Tipping his flat cap in her direction, he pushes the wheelbarrow along the dirt path. The moon is full and bright.
“G’Evening Mister George, George Junior.” Regarding father and son with a bow of his head, his mud caked boots trudges forward. Thick fog blankets the graveyard.
“G’Evening Miss Ramona.” Next to her, he finds an empty plot and grabs a shovel.
Alone in the cemetery, the gravedigger whistles a tune as he digs. Tree branches full of orange leaves bristle. A woman’s delicate voice carries on the wind.
“Good evening, Jim. How’s life been treating you?”
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Lady Jabberwocky 
This could easily go in two directions. Either the gravedigger can see dead people and talks to them, or he just loves his job when suddenly he gets a response he didn’t expect.
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Uh-oh.
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Hmmmm, common occurrence or does Mr. Jim Gravedigger need new underwear? Intriguing story!
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